


A Kiss on the Knuckles is Nothing (Compared to What I'd do to You)

by Neyiea



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Hand Kink, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 09:29:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3062708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neyiea/pseuds/Neyiea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo's a little too fascinated by Thorin's (large, rough, <i>wonderful</i>) hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Kiss on the Knuckles is Nothing (Compared to What I'd do to You)

**Author's Note:**

> This has been collecting dust on my computer for months, not sure if I'll continue it at all (since I work at a glacial pace) but I like it enough as is to post it.

When he'd dashed after the company of dwarves his mind had been awash with thoughts of adventure: far off places, mysteries, new discoveries around every corner; the sort of things his mother used to tell him stories about.

What he hadn't been expecting was a disproportional amount of carnal frustration.

Goodness knows he'd rather not have felt any fancy towards anyone (especially a certain solemn dwarf) and it should have been easy to dismiss such feelings. Dwarves, while nice enough upon further acquaintance, were altogether too loud, too broad, too hairy and far too blunt for Bilbo to want anything more than friendship from them. 

But by Eru, their _hands._

Broad, square palms attached to long, think fingers that seemed more cuboidal than round. He'd always had a thing for rougher hands, and it was just his luck that that seemed to be a common trait amongst his travelling companions. And of course the King Under the Mountain would have the most desirable hands of all; with large knuckles, work-worn fingertips and calluses that Bilbo was sure would feel wonderful dragging over him.

It was highly unfair that the most devastating hands he'd ever seen were attached to someone who very nearly loathed him. And he never got the chance to take care of the _grievous problems_ the dwarf's hands caused, for though at night he was surrounded by deep sleepers there was always someone on watch and he simply refused to take matters into hand when there was a chance that someone might see.

His resolve on that front was nearly unwavering.

At least until one evening when, after securing their camp and sheathing his sword, Thorin flexed his fingers and proceeded to crack his knuckles.

If Bilbo were still a tween he probably would have whimpered at the sound.

"Damn it all," he muttered into his half empty bowl of stew. There was nothing for it, he needed to take the edge off at least, before someone noticed he focussed a little too much attention on their illustrious leader (certain parts of him, anyways).

That night he picks out a spot as close to the edge of camp as he can without seeming suspicious, wisely settling nearest to the deepest sleepers who surely won't pick up on whatever muffled noises he might make.

Under the cover of his thick blanket he slowly and quietly unbuttons his shirt and slips his trousers a little further down his hips before rolling on his side, for all appearances ready to drift off. Bilbo waits, idly running his nails over the soft swell of his stomach, until the Company's descent into slumber is made obvious by their snores.

He bites his lip and imagines a hand other than his own running over his body. The scratchy texture of the pads of Thorin's fingers rough against him, his unevenly trimmed nails occasionally scratching just enough to titillate.

His hand travels down past his navel, and he takes a fortifying breath.

Thorin's hand, so much larger than his own, wrapping around his cock, brushing his thumb over Bilbo's slit before adjusting his fingers and stroking. The pressure of his grip would be almost too much to bare at first, and his hardened calluses would drive Bilbo out of his mind, but he'd not loosen his grasp or slow his pace, too stubborn for such a thing. He was probably an impatient sort, would only just get Bilbo half-hard before pressing the fingers of his other hand to Bilbo's lips.

And _oh_ , Bilbo would take as much of those digits into his mouth as he could, mapping them out with his tongue and scraping at Thorin's knuckles with his teeth until they were absolutely dripping with saliva. The dwarf would respond to his eagerness favourably by tracing his fingertips down the underside of Bilbo's erection and-

His breath hitched.

-cupping his testes. Thorin didn't seem a very vocal sort, but he'd probably whisper a crude comment into the crook of Bilbo's neck as he bucked against him.

He'd move his hand back to Bilbo's cock before long, though this time he would just keep his fingers wrapped around the base, no matter how much Bilbo shifted and whined. It would be then that he would finally trail his wet fingers towards-

Bilbo shuddered, biting his lip as he reached down.

There would be no coy teasing, no gentle, reassuring strokes, he would simply press the first finger (big enough to be two of Bilbo's own) inside. The stretch would have Bilbo gritting his teeth in slight discomfort even as the sensation of Thorin sinking knuckle-deep inside him makes his mind go blank.

He would wait briefly for Bilbo to adjust, hissing more dirty comment against his neck, biting down on his shoulders and collar bones to pass the time until finally they were ready. He'd curl and twist his finger, stretching him open further before adding another. Just the feel of him pressed inside would have Bilbo's toes curling, but then he'd finally start pumping his fist up and down Bilbo's shaft and-

Bilbo grits his teeth and rocks into his hand as a weaker than expected orgasm washed over him.

He'd been hoping to last a little longer, to draw it out so that the amount of frustration he's been subjected to would have been worth something, but he's let it go on too long, gotten himself too keyed up, to live up to his own expectations of an earth-shattering experience.

Still, he'll have to do this again sometime. 

Maybe tomorrow.


End file.
